


World Worth Fighting For

by becauseISaidSo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, F/M, Gen, how to tag, i write this in twelve hours, uhhh, welcome to my brain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 06:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becauseISaidSo/pseuds/becauseISaidSo
Summary: This is based off ofthistext post stating simply and clearly: What if James had been the werewolf?





	World Worth Fighting For

For some reason he had never doubted being able to go to Hogwarts. Maybe it was because his parents had wanted him to have as normal a childhood as possible, pretending - like they always did - that his furry little problem didn’t exist. He played with the their pure blood children, Frank Longbottom bossing them all around with an heir of authority that had made his mum smile. He’d went to the magic primary school run out of the back yard of one of the witches in the village - Bathilda, they’d called her.

Yes, it had never crossed his mind that he wouldn’t join Alice, Dorcas, and Barry at Hogwarts when his time came, and therefore found it a tremendous surprise when on his eleventh birthday, there was no letter in the morning post. 

He saw his mum and dad exchange nervous glances with each other, they liked to do this often when they wanted to talk in private but didn’t want him to overhear.

“We were afraid of this,” said his mothers eyes.

“I’m sorry,” said his fathers.

James had just been getting ready to pipe up and demand to know what the bloody hell was going on, when there was a knock on the door.  
Three hours, a few very strong cups of tea, and a private chat with a funny man called Professor Dumbledore and James was clutching his letter with a glee he hadn’t known he’d possessed. He ran into the garden, wishing Alice was still around to read it with him, but showing Barty and Dorcas in perfect detail exactly how the ink was still shining as it spelled out his name.

_Dear Mr. Potter_

Sitting on the train headed to Hogwarts, however, was a different matter. His parents had coached him profusely, do not talk about it, and he had no intention of it, but everyone he spoke to hadn’t had Mr. Dumbledore visit them like he’d done James.

This unnerved him a bit, until he met a girl with long dark red hair and a gaze that reminded him of Dorcas when you took away her books. Her name was Lily and Professor Dumbledore had visited her too, though, upon further questioning, he’d determined why.

“You’re a muggle,” he said simply.

“Am not!” She drew herself up with a pride that illuminated the whole carriage, and cause the two black haired boys arguing to look over at them.

“She’s a witch and don’t you forget it!” Said one of the black haired boys. He obviously knew Lily from somewhere or another.

James shrugged apologetically and looked at the other black haired boy whose eyes startled him with how clear and silver they were.

Sirius Black, it turned out, hadn’t been visited by Dumbledore either. Though, he hardly cared about that as he seemed to be one of the most interesting people James had ever met.

They talked the rest of the train ride, swapping stories of their families and thinking up what a good joke would be to play on their roommates because - of course - they were going to wind up in the same house. How obvious that was.

They did. And climbing excitedly, though tiredly, to Gryffindor tower hours later, James had a burst of realization that he was about to become roommates with a bunch of relative strangers and the full moon was only a week away. He gulped at the thought but chatted with Sirius all the same, mentioning, however casually, that he hoped his sick mother got better soon.

The “sick mother” bit got harder to maintain, especially after Remus and Peter joined their little gang. He was as happy as he could be but the knowledge of his secret weighed him down.

If had never been an issue before. His parents knew and they’d simply never planned a play date for a full moon night - easy enough. But now he was rooming with people who not only were unaware of his condition but who actively opposed it.

This got brought home to him in a stark moment of reality when Remus mentioned idly something about werewolves not deserving citizenship. It had thrown him so badly that he’d laughed with the others and gone with it, too absorbed to really hear what happened next.

By second year, he’d gotten better at ignoring it. No use in calling the boys out, he didn’t want a reputation of a werewolf sympathizer anymore than he wanted the truth known, and yet the strain on his friendship with the three was beginning to be felt.

Sirius had taken to asking him if he was alright much more often than any of the other. On the fourth time this happened in a single day, James had snapped at him so bad the taller boy had gone white with shock and hadn’t asked him again for a month.

It was bloody worth it.

Third year was almost unbearable. The secret itched at him from all sides. He began calling Remus - the biggest culprit - and the others on their anti werewolf talk. He did it quietly and without fuss but he did see Sirius look at him, study him a bit too long every now and then. He wouldn’t meet his eyes.

By Christmas the three had begun to distance themselves. He could feel part of his soul crushing as he thought about what was going to happen after the next full moon. Why had he had to say anything at all - ever? He should have sucked it up and taken it, accepted the friendships as a good thing, not something to be tested though. He hadn’t bothered coming up with an excuse for this months absence. He would just go home for Christmas early and answer the questions when he got back. If they asked him any.

They cornered him before he could leave - however. The three of them blocking the doorway. Tall and thin, Remus; short and stocky Peter; and of course built and strong Sirius, all staring him down with the same intense looks he had been told he wore during Quidditch matches. 

They sat him down and before he could even open his mouth Peter spoke, “you, James Potter, are a werewolf,”

James’s mouth fell open staring at the three of them, at a loss for words. “We don’t give a damn that ya are,” said Remus in his soft Scottish burr.

“And we’re going to help you,” said Sirius smiling broadly and meeting James’s eyes.

It was a crazy fucking plan. A fucked up insane plan. And yet…

By fourth year the Marauders had really taken over the school. The Prewett twins had graduated, leaving open the title of “mischief makers in chief” a roll James was determined the four of them would win.

Marlene and Lily would occasionally give them a run for their money but it was no matter. They were a foursome, never to be separated. He hadn’t known what being open and free about his condition would do for him. And while he certainly wasn’t telling anyone else, the fact that his friends, his real friends, knew and didn’t care was enough to make him want to sing from the rafters.

Fifth year, however, all hell broke loose. They’d managed to finish their project. Sirius, naturally, turned into a dog, a big black one that reminded him of the muggle horror movies he used to watch through their neighbors living room window. Peter was a rat, his cunning and cleverness had blossomed in the past year and Sirius kept joking that he had better grow a liking for cheese. Remus, got his part, turned into a lion, something that made James ache with jealousy and longing. What animal might he turn into, he wondered, allvthe while thinking meanly that he would probably just be a fucking wolf, the irony.

A few months later, though, Sirius had run away. It was Christmas day and mum and dad had been setting out the crackers when the floo going off and a whirl of ashes and tongues of flame spurting out of the fireplace had disturbed them all and come running.

It was worse that James had realized. Fucking Walburga had turned her wand on her kids this time, and Sirius curled into him like a cat, sealing warmth, comfort, anything. James offered what he could, talking for hours about nothing any everything, until Sirius had finally interrupted and told him about Remus.

Spring term had been much better. After the initial shock, Sirius had adjusted beautifully to his new home, and made it more and more of a point to hex those wannabe Death Eaters any time he could.

That summer they went away, the four of them, running through the highlands with Remus, telling stories, and laughing. Laughing for what felt must be the last time. And they went back for sixth year with happy hearts but determination.

It was October when it happened.

He had never before been that close to the stark reality of his beast. For that’s what it - he was, a beast. He was a monster out of children’s stories. He was the demon in the dark. He was a violent, killing machine and no amount of acceptance, jokes, or apologies could change that. He had almost killed Snape. That was just the way of it.

Remus has rescued him, pulling that greasy haired ball of guts back and away from the entrance, but he had seen him. They had locked eyes for that terrible moment and James knew he knew what he was.

It was hard not to feel numb. Feeling any emotion at all required energy he didn’t think he had. He simply sat down at the end of the Gryffindor table the next morning, rubbing the bruises on his atms and ducking his head as he ate.

Peter came by first, he didn’t say much, just sat, twitching nervously, asking shallow questions that James ignored.

Remus came by next, apologizing for not stopping him earlier, telling him to take whatever time he needed, putting an extra slice of toast onto his plate. He appreciated Remus’s presence, but it wasn’t what he needed. When he had finally made it clear that he didn’t want company, Remus had left, gripping his shoulder tightly as he left.

Sirius didn’t stop by.

Days later, Evans cornered him on their way to charms, pulling him into an empty classroom.

“What the-?” But before he could properly protest, Evans had slapped him.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she’s snapped, glowering at him, her eyes piercing his soul.

“Im not-!”

But his protestations were cut short by her glower.

“Sev told me what happened and before you ask, no I’m not friends with him again, but he accosted me after Herbology, beyond excited to tell me that his ‘theories were true,’” she crossed her arms, fixing him with a look, “i don’t care if he’s right, okay? I don’t care if he’s wrong, I couldn’t give two bloody fucks,” James was surprised to find himself grinning, “You’re a git, regardless, so stop sulking and get back to trying to dye Flitwick’s hair blue,”

And then she was gone, leaving James grinning like an idiot.

Remus has taken over as his potions partner, he wasn’t as good as Sirius, but he knew Lily tutored him and still trusted his judgment. Snape sat at the other end of the room, scribbling like mad in his notebook, his bright eyes mad and shifty. James did his best to ignore him.

Sirius still hadn’t tried to talk to him.

By Christmas they finally were faced with the reality that they would be spending the holidays together, in a house where they would be expected to talk to each other. Sirius had retreated completely from the others, spending much of his time with Regulus and Marlene. He caught Remus and Peter whispering to each other behind their hands but paid no mind.

On the train home for the Christmas holidays Remus and Peter had led James to a compartment and shoved him in, locking he and Sirius in from the outside.

“I’m sorry,”

“Oh, now you’re bloody sorry,”

“I was sorry before!”

“Yeah? Avoiding me like the plague isn’t exactly what I would call an apology!”

“I know but I was scared!”

“Oh, you were scared?! Imagine how I felt!? Imagine just for one instance having to be responsible for a life that’s not your own and knowing in your heart that you’re about to kill someone with no way of stopping it!”

Sirius was looking at the ground, shifting.

“You’re my fucking brother and I get to be bloody pissed at you you cunt bucket!” He was losing sense of what he was saying, “you only bloody think about yourself! You only care about yourself! You’ve never given one fucking thought towards the mother fucking consequences!”

“I know I went too far!” Sirius cut him off, eyes pleading, “I just wanted to have fun,”

“DEATH ISNT FUN SIRIUS!” He bellowed, his whole face ablaze, his hands were clenched in fists and he was fuming.

By Easter they had made up.

They were brothers after all, there was only so much he could hold over him, and the apology he had - eventually - made, sincerly and calm, meeting his eyes had touched him in a way he hadn’t realized was possible.

The four of them were back, rulers of the school and Sirius and Remus had started shagging on the regular. So had Dorcas and Marlene to absolutely no ones surprise.

The summer before seventh year they went to France. Peters dad spent much of his time there and he was able to get a room for the four of them at a tiny inn on the south coast. They lounged in the sun during the days, drank too much fire whiskey at night. He had gotten over being self conscious about his scarring, and skinny dipped with Sirius, splashing the other two until they had no choice but to get in with them.

o On the fourth day they met Marlene and Dorcas, a couples vacation turned giant Gryffindor party. Marlene told them Lily had been made Head Girl and there was lots of ooing and punching as James revealed that he’d been made Head Boy.

“Good things come to those who wait,” said Dorcas, teasing him and winking. He flushed but grinned all the same. 

He’d missed duty for the third time in three months. McGonnegal seemed to have forgotten about his furry little problem and had insisted on scheduling him during a full moon over and over again.

Lily was good about it. She had patrolled alone, covering for him when needed, and had brought him chocolates to breakfast the next morning. Marlene, Dorcas, Remus, Sirius, Peter, and Mary had grinned at them down the table, making bets and snickering behind their hands. He ignored them.

In November they kissed in the fresh snow on the lawns.

In December they wrote each other every day. Sometimes twice a day and James walked into the muggle village and learned how to use a pay phone. 

The night before graduation, the four of them spilled out onto the lawn, barely bothering with the cloak and went swimming in the lake. Afterwards he and Lily snuck into the prefects bathroom and enjoyed the luxuries of soap and adrenaline.

_She was so soft._

He touched the scars on his own chest, and wondered, not for the first time, if he could ever be enough for her.

They joined the Order. All of them. All of them except Mary who was going to train to be a healer and “didn’t want any distractions thank you very much,”

The world got darker, quickly. Death Eaters were moving without fear, without abandon.

The first time they met him, James had been sure he had shit his pants. They’d gotten away by sheer will, Lily dragging him through the house, disapparating with the two of them and splinching part of his ear in the process.

Marlene and Dorcas got engaged.

The second time they met him was a year later. He was more prepared, he stayed on his feet. But it had been Mad Eye who had been the real hero, calling the shots and losing an eye in the process.

And then Lily got pregnant.

He had assumed, wrongfully so, that he couldn’t have children. They sat for a long time in their flat that they shared with the other six of them (seriously why did so many of them live in the same bloody place) and talked about what was to be done.

He bought a ring the next day.

A week after their wedding, Lily buldging like a balloon and stuffing cake down his front, they went to see his parents.

Above the house, in that pale ghostly vapor was the Dark Mark.

Grief wasn’t what it was called. He called it vengeance. He called it justice. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel. All he knew was that Lily’s arms were around him and somewhere, some how, Sirius was screaming.

That months moon was the worst he’d had in years. They’d moved into the house after the will had made it clear who it was going to. Sirius was away on a mission and Remus was still recovering at St. Mungos. Peter, though his company was appreciated, couldn’t keep him in check like the other two. He turned, alone, in the basement of his childhood home, grief still flooding through him. When he woke, he found the walls of the room slashed through and an old crate, containing photographs and letters, shredded.

Lily found him sobbing in the dark and stroked his hair, murmuring softly to him.

Three weeks later, Marlene turned up dead.

The third time they faced him, it was personal.

So much grief and loss and horror that he had caused, it was his fault. His bloody fucking fault. Frank and Alice were with them that time. And Remus.

It had been the plan to get caught, discover what you could about them, and escape. If no one turned up within two days a rescue party would be sent. What hadn’t been the plan was who exactly had captured him.

Fenrir Greyback, his teeth yellow and pointed grinned at him. “It’d good to see you again, my son,”

And that, however horrible it was, was how he learned how he had been bitten. He knew the face, knew the smell that echoed from his mouth, sparking a memory in his brain long ago buried.

He talked of family, he talked of power, of taking back what had never been allowed. “Your friend Lupin doesn’t like our kind now does he?” He was jeering at James, trying to unnerve him.

It worked.

Harry was born in a flurry of excitement and celebration, but one look at his sons tiny beautiful face and he knew what he had to do.

They had gone into hiding. Someone was after their son, and he- James- posed even more of a threat.

He left the house, he didn’t tell anyone, but he left, stealing out in the middle of the night, he knew where to go.

Dumbledore had asked it of him before Lily had gotten pregnant. He had told the crazy old man he would think about it, but then later had declined, telling him that no he couldn’t go through with it. He had a family to protect.

Well he didn’t have a family anymore.

Greyback smiled as he walked into camp, his yellow eyes glistening always with The Wolf just below the surface.

It wasn’t long before they trusted him, he had a story just like theirs, for he hadn’t seen a need to lie about it.

Within the year he was making regular calls to headquarters, carrying messages back and forth, listening to what he could.

Once a month he met Remus or Sirius or Peter and once Dorcas in a coffee house in Bristol. They’d sit at the counter next to each other, not talking, sliding their various manila envelopes to each other across the counter. Information and instructions.

Around Harry’s first birthday, Sirius had followed him outside after their transaction, pulled him into an ally, dropped the instant darkness powder, muffliatoed the area, and slammed James up against a wall.

“What the-?”

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at, Potter?” Sirius’s voice was low but angry, his eyes, usually bright and silver, were clouded with anger and his wand was pointing at James’s throat.

“I’m fucking spying, what do you think I’m doing?” He was angry. He hadn’t asked for this job, he hadn’t wanted to do it. _But you chose it_ , said the little voice inside his head. He pushed the thoughts away and glowered at his brother.

“You’re fucking everything up is what you’re doing. People think you’ve switched sides!” Sirius lowered his wand but still kept it trained on him, should he make any sudden moves.

“I’m protecting my family,” he spat. Sirius wouldn’t understand, Sirius couldn’t understand. He didn’t know what it was like to be… what he was.

“You’re hurting them,” he was glaring at him, “we all thought Lily would bounce back, you know, get better once she got used to the idea. But she’s worse, James. I don’t think she’s eating and after we lost Dorcas-“ He stopped at the look on James’s face, “yeah, we lost Dorcas,”

James’s head was buzzing. He felt dizzy. Not another one.

Sirius stared at him, his expression unreadable. “At least talk to her, James, at least tell her why you left,”

And then he was gone.

In October he was called to see Voldemort himself. He had proven himself over and over again to be a worthy loyal servant and The Dark Lord had gotten wind of him, asking to see him personally.

He arrived at the manor home with Greyback who was escorting him, and had his own business to attend to.

The rooms were cold and dark and he didn’t see nearly as many people as he would have expected. The large ballroom where he was led was empty save for two chairs by the fireplace. They were empty and James sat in one, his heart racing, preparing.

He was shorter than he remembered him. Facing him now, as ally rather than foe, it was very odd to see the clear human aspects of him that hadn’t been prevalent before.

His cold high voice hadn’t changed, however.

He called for refreshments, and something struck James’s heart as he saw the man who brought them.

He was short, pale, balding, and yet James would know him anywhere.

He locked eyes with Peter, his heart thumping, his face giving nothing away. Peter swallowed and looked away from him, setting down the tray of fire whiskey he’s brought with him.

“Thank you, Wormtail,” said Voldemort, his voice laced with amusement, “is it good to see your old school friend?”

Peter- Wormtail - for that was the appropriate name the filthy little bastard - nodded shakily.

“Good, now, Potter,” he trained his red eyes on James, “is there anything you’d like to say to Wormtail here? He talks about you quite a lot, I must say,”

James swallowed, “does he?” He could feel anger begin to boil under his skin but kept his face if the expression of polite surprise.

Voldemort laughed, a high mirthless laugh that held no humor.

“One of the two of you have betrayed me,” he said, his voice level, “I give you the opportunity now to come forward. Come forward as men and you shall be given the chance to survive,”

Neither James nor Wormtail moved a muscle. They were staring at each other, eyes boring into the others skull. James was thinking furiously. Peter was here. Peter was a traitor. Peter was the spy that all of his briefings had mentioned. Peter was also the only person keeping Lily and Harry safe. They were still safe. He would have heard otherwise. If Peter hadn’t given them up yet then maybe there was a chance…

“Well if none of you will give yourselves up, then I guess I’ll have to do it for you,” Voldemort raised his wand-

“Wait,” Peter was trembling, his eyes on the wand in Voldemort’s hand. “It is I My Lord,” he met James’s eyes dead on for a split second before turning back to Voldemort who was regarding him interestedly, “I am the one who has been h-hiding from you,” his voice was raising in pitch and terror, “I have been keeping secrets from you, secrets a-about the boy,”

The atmosphere of the room changed with the speed of a stunner. Voldemort stood, interested, his eyes ablaze, no longer with amusement but with fury, “you know about the boy,” he hissed and he seeded Wormtail around the scruff of the neck, lifting him off the ground, “what is it you know,” he hissed, his whole body tense.

James didn’t know what to do, he was transfixed by the scene in front of him, overcome with emotions flooding through him. What the fuck did he do now.

“I kn-know where he is, m-my lord, and,” wormtail lifted a shaking finger and pointed it at James, “and s-so does he,”

“Yes, I do,” said James, raising almost of his own accord and looking Voldemort dead on, “I do know where he is, Peter,” he spat the name and he saw Wormtail flinch, “but alas I can tell no one as I am not the secret keeper,”

Voldemort looked at him, truely looked at him for the first time, “you are the father,” it was not a question.

James nodded, his heart thumping in his chest. “Well, then,” Voldemort released Peter who fell gasping to the floor, “you must know then, who the secret keeper is,” he grinned wildly, his eyes flashing, and James felt the first instance of fear since stepping into the house rise up in him. Voldemort saw it too and smiled. “Who is it?” He growled.

Wormtail was whimpering on the floor and as James met his eyes a wave of pity that he hadn’t been expecting washed over him. James looked back at Voldemort, held his head high, and without the trace of a hesitation said, “Sirius Black,”

Years later he still had no clear idea why he’d done it, but he’d sensed, in that moment, why he had always opposed the Dark Arts.

He wasn’t fighting for himself, or his friends. They could take care of themselves, he wasn’t fighting for glory or fame, or even - he found it hard to admit to himself - because it was the right thing to do. He was fighting for the people who could not. He was fighting for the weak, for the broken, for the desolate. He was fighting for those like Peter, who had chosen his course because no other seemed attainable, because he didn’t have what James had, and he couldn’t hold conviction. That was just the way of it.

It was surprising how quickly it ended. Voldemort had given Wormtail to James to “deal with”. James had transfigured him, stuck a locking spell on it, and stuck him in his coat pocket where he couldn’t get away. Then, in the privacy of the loo, he’d pulled out the mirror. It had taken three tries but Sirius had answered.

The Death Eaters, swarming together had traveled to Sirius and Remus’s place and been met head on with the force of the entire Order.

He could never be sure exactly who had cast the final blow. It might have been Sirius, maybe Mad-eye, Lily was a high contendor. He thought personally that it had been Frank, but there had been so much going on that he hadn’t been sure. Voldemort was dead. (Mostly dead, as Dumbledore had explained days later) but dead for the moment. 

Peter was put in custody and James had vouched for him. He would spend time in Azkaban, but not for life.

James, himself, went home. Home to the cottage he’d grown up in. Home to his wife and son (his very angry wife and son) and apologized. He would probably be apologizing for the rest of his life, but Lily had forgiven him.

“You always feel way too sorry for yourself,” she told him one night after they’d made love.

“Oh?”

“Oh yes, but maybe next time you just get a dram with Sirius rather than abandoning your family,”

He’d laughed at that and snuggled closer to her.

“I won’t leave,” he said into the dark, “never again,”

And he didn’t. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! You can find me here on tumblr. The post for this story is here.


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